I had the great pleasure of seeing the first preview, or – as Director Jack Paterson called it – “the tech/dress” of William Shakespeare’s *Coriolanus*, which is currently at the Jericho Arts Centre.  *Coriolanus* is the story of a returning war hero who becomes ruthlessly disenfranchised by the politics of [...]]]> An interview with Director Jack Paterson

I had the great pleasure of seeing the first preview, or – as Director Jack Paterson called it – “the tech/dress” of William Shakespeare’s *Coriolanus*, which is currently at the Jericho Arts Centre.  *Coriolanus* is the story of a returning war hero who becomes ruthlessly disenfranchised by the politics of peacetime. The thorny issues of the play are made vividly accessible through the talents of Paterson, the cast and the production team.
The play is being produced as an Equity Co-op:http://bardatjac.com/, which means that “like-minded professional theatre artists can come together to bring their work to the stage. Co-ops are self-produced; members take equal shares of the net box office proceeds after all expenses are paid.” In a nutshell, this means that the prodigious talents of those involved are donated out of a passion for the project rather than a desire for a paycheque. The investment of those involved is palpable and the project is superb because of the efforts of the ensemble.
I spoke to Paterson before opening night about the process of unearthing Coriolanus for Vancouver’s audiences.
*Rachel Scott:* Well, here’s the most obvious question: Why Coriolanus?
*Jack Paterson:* That’s a really good question.  It’s been floating around in my head for awhile. We had done an online vote for our last show [at the Jericho Arts Centre]. And everyone overwhelming voted for Titus Andronicus. I wasn’t expecting anyone to vote for it. Which was kind of like, “oh fuck, how are we going to do that?” So we figured out how to do it. But what do you do after you’ve done Titus Andronicus? And [then] I got really busy and didn’t have time to run the vote again. So we just picked the most evil show we possibly could. And then it was, “how are we going to do this?”
*RS:* Having watched it, it seems like quite a good play and I wondered why does no one ever do it?
*JP:* Well that’s the thing. It’s not an easy read… because it’s [written at] the end of Shakespeare’s career when he’d moved more toward naturalism and away from verse. And he’s writing about topical events. [At the time of writing] there had just been a riot near Stratford where Shakespeare was living. In that sense, it’s a very immediate play. He’s writing for the people around him, he’s not writing for posterity.
*RS:* So you think that’s why people don’t do it?  Because it’s a hard read, that seems too political and complex?  And that it’s written in prose, not verse?
*JP:* Yeah, it doesn’t have the elements we’re used to in Shakespeare. It’s also done in reverse, because the big war is at the beginning, not the end.  It’s reversed in its build, so we’re just not used to it, it’s quite different. And it’s never taught in schools.
*RS:* But it feels really quite immediate.
*JP:* It’s so present. I was working on [and cutting the script] during the Democrat primaries in the United States, the American election, the Canadian election, Parliament going on hold for two months – what’s that? – and then the shit-storm going on in Gaza and the Russia-Georgia conflict… both of those conflicts feel very much like, “who’s going to take on Rome?” And as more and more went on in Gaza, the more and more I was like, okay, that is the kind of world that Coriolanus comes from. This is where his mother comes from; this is why these people are who they are, because they live under threat. It just started to seem really, really, really present.
*RS:* I loved some of the design elements that added to that immediacy. The sound design by Jeff Tymoschuk, including the sound of the helicopters, was so evocative of wartime. The use of blackberries, Starbucks coffee – so many elements were recognizable – that these characters were immediately place-able in my own world. Anything to say about the process of using those elements?
*JP:* In order for me to understand the story, I have to set it in my world. I have to go, “okay, who are these people? How do I relate?” I need to know who they are in my world before I can take the next step to who they are in Shakespeare’s world. It was fun trying to [imagine] the Tribunes. They’re in suits, they have briefcases. We’re just at the beginning of democracy in Rome. We know have something to do with a mob uprising. Should they be drinking coffee? Yeah, they should be drinking coffee! It all started to make sense as we were going through it. A large part is because I need to be able – I’m as thick as a brick – I need to be able to understand it. And for me to understand it, I need to see in the present, now, who are these people. And I wanted to really prove that this is a universal story. We assume that because it’s Shakespeare – a playwright for all ages – that the audience will get it. But I think, every time we approach classical text, we need to prove that it’s universal, rather than assuming that it is.
*RS:* I think there can be the temptation to get gimmicky or clever.  “Oh, let’s do Shakespeare in this context that’s never been done before.” This didn’t feel like that at all.
*JP:* My work often gets [termed as] “re-inventing” Shakespeare or “blowing the dust off” and it always makes me really mad. Because what we’re actually trying to do is get back to Shakespeare’s original intent. Because [in the original Shakespeare productions] they wore Elizabethan clothes, they didn’t wear togas, they didn’t do period pieces. So what we’re trying to do is get back to the basics. Shakespeare was writing for the people around him; we should be presenting this play for the people around us.
*RS:* Do you think that Coriolanus deserves what he gets at the end?
*JP:* I don’t know.  For me the play – and I’m hoping this is what the audience gets – the play is a debate. It feels like the two arguments of the play are should he die or should he be put in charge of things. And I think a lot about [Roméo Dallaire] the Canadian general who was in Rwanda with the UN peacekeepers who weren’t able to do anything. Coriolanus, had he been there, would have done something. So we aren’t necessarily keen on strong individual military leaders, because they might get upset if and when the people don’t agree with their ideas and we’re afraid to give them too much control.  So the debate of the play is what should we do?  What do we do with these people that we create? We need them. Like the guys who are in Afghanistan right now, they’re our guys, we train them, we send them off to fight for our interests. This has been going on since the beginning of time. We train them to do these horrible things. There are serious affects. I actually think Coriolanus suffers from posttraumatic stress disorder; it would have been “soldier’s heart” in Elizabethan era. They suffer from the horrible things they have to do [but] we need them to do it. But what do we do with them afterwards? Because they can’t just fit in afterwards.
*RS:* What about Coriolanus’ son, Martius? We see a lot of the story through his eyes. Was he written into all those scenes or was that a directorial choice?
*JP:* I worked him into more scenes. Martius’ journey, I think, is similar to the journey that Coriolanus took as a child. I wanted to contrast the innocence, the learning, and also explore where Coriolanus came from. I mean, we are what we teach our kids. I am what my parents taught me. My kids will be what I teach them. So that needs to be addressed.
_Coriolanus, written by William Shakespeare; Presented by the Coriolanus Equity Co-op; Directed by Jack Paterson;  Set Design by Al Frisk; Sound Design by Jeff  Tymoshuck & Corina Akeson; Lighting Design by James Foy;  Costume Design by Moira Fentum; Ian Butcher as Coriolanus, Kristina Agosti, Corina Akeson, Chris Cochrane, Anna Cummer, Josh Drebit, Evan Frayne, Keith Martin Gordey,  Adam Henderson, Paul Herbert, Anthony F. Ingram, Sebastian Kroon, Ashley Liu, Una Memisevic, Christina Schild, Cailin Stadnyk, Troy Anthony Young, and Gwynyth Walsh as Volumnia

Coriolanus at the Jericho Arts Center through March 14th, Tuesday-Sunday 8 pm. For more information – including their innovative 2 for 1 offer for anyone with a program or ticket stub from another show – go here: www.bardatjac.com and have a riot.

Transmission is an hour-long exploration of human disappearance, told through the specific trauma of a brother losing his sister while she is abroad.  She simply disappears, and has perhaps been abducted and [...]]]> Transmission
Written by Tanya Marquardt
Co-directed by Tanya Marquardt and Heidi Taylor
Co-created and performed by David Bloom and Deanna Peters
Co-presented by Chrysalis Theatre and Proximity Arts

Transmission is an hour-long exploration of human disappearance, told through the specific trauma of a brother losing his sister while she is abroad.  She simply disappears, and has perhaps been abducted and tortured.  A non-linear experience, the narrative unfolds through the text, movement, and the occasionally blistering use of music and lights.
The play is held together by the connection of the brother (David Bloom) and his sister (Deanna Peters).  Although the two performers never physically connect, they frequently come close through mirroring movements and overlapping narrative.  Their intimacy is conveyed through simultaneously relayed stories from childhood, which are funny and poignant.  Peter’s beautiful use of movement and vulnerability make her believable as the tough, chaotic sibling.  Bloom’s quiet internalism reveals the destructive wake of loss without resolution.
Although Transmission was well conceived and smartly executed, I did not connect fully with this work.  Because all of the action was rooted in the past, the present lacked fundamental dramatic tension.  The isolation of the characters, while obviously relevant to the theme of disappearance, was unrelenting and made the relationship feel abstract.  The beautiful poetry of the text was not grounded in any meaningful context of action.   All the talk was just that…talk.  The siblings had shared an abusive childhood, which really just made the piece unremittingly dark.
The set was clever, with practical microphones set into the walls and functional clock radios hanging from the ceiling.  These devices conveyed the theme of transmission through time, whether it was the transmission of the human voice or of radio waves.  These details also contextualized the sister’s memory as the ghost of her previous “transmissions.”
There is a lot of abstract potential in the work: transmission of our past and abuse into the present, transmission of emotion, and transmission of memory.  However, these themes seemed mostly academic.  Perhaps the empty-handed feeling of the story is appropriate, given the loss and uncertainty of the sister’s fate.  However, the story would have been better served had it grounded the audience in a stronger emotional foundation.  As it was, the heart of the piece was not compelling enough to leave me with anything more than abstract appreciation.

Who took in Radix Theatre’s Assembly, part of this year’s PuSh Festival.

Ashleigh: If you are looking for motivational seminars in Vancouver, a quick internet search shows [...]]]> Your Plank Panel seeking motivation:

Ashleigh Dalton who likes to assemble puzzles, IKEA furniture and food such as lasagna
Rachel Scott who likes to assemble complex relationships, yoga sequences and logic traps

Who took in Radix Theatre’s Assembly, part of this year’s PuSh Festival.

Ashleigh: If you are looking for motivational seminars in Vancouver, a quick internet search shows as many as four occurring in this city on any given day. Assembly, presented by Radix Theatre as part of the PuSh Festival, began as most other motivational seminars, with the arriving participants (audience members) greeted, provided with nametags and shown to a hotel conference room, but became so much more. I don’t think any of us knew what quirky introspective fun we were in for. There was a hum in the conference room before the seminar started as people chattered over electronic-samba-meets-elevator-muzak background music, readjusted their nametags and waited for the expert-panel to take their stools at the front of the room.

Rachel: The concept was really fun. Since you mentioned the music, let me highlight that the sound design, by Stefan Smulovitz, was fantastic. Some moments were absolutely hilarious: the “electronic-samba” sound that you noted, or the over the top groovy yoga music that suddenly came on during an “audience introspection” moment. As the show evolved, the sound design became more subtle and evocative, which also helped our experience to evolve. The other technical elements of the production – Sean Lang’s video and photography, Itai Erdal’s lighting design – were similarly important in helping the audience feel where they were in terms of mood. During the piece, we did travel through several disparate and lovely worlds. The technical elements helped me stay oriented.

Ashleigh: Assembly is presented as an artistic exploration of “themes of wholeness and fragmentation, gathered around contemporary notions of body, mind and soul.” These notions were explored in varied and often bizarre ways that drew heavily on audience participation and engagement. I look at Assembly as having three segments: the self-improvement seminar, the surreal scene in the other room, and the actors’ monologues. Perhaps these three segments can be associated with the mind, body and soul, respectively.

Rachel: I hadn’t thought of it that way, but that’s a lovely way to describe it. It also could be seen as a classic birth, death and rebirth story. In the first phase, we are greeted with an identity. In the second phase, we enter the (tunnel, womb, birth canal – insert metaphor here), then we are re-birthed again as these new beings. But instead of evolving, the layers fell away. To be cute, they dis-assembled. The speakers let down their masks. We started with these charismatic, but ridiculous, motivational speakers and wound up connecting to some very personal stories. What was also interesting was that there was still a thru-line: there were still pieces of the motivational speakers in the final “human” monologues. But instead of presenting us with anecdotes of “we have the answer, you do not,” there was a feeling of connection and intimacy.

Ashleigh: I found the connection between performer and audience started right off the bat, when the actors asked everyone in the audience to think of, and call out, their deepest desires. A willing audience played along and revealed what they really wanted: more money, a woman to love, a cupcake. I was sold on the show the moment that the actors started incorporating random audience members into the seminar, calling them by name.

Rachel: That was so much fun. They really did put a lot of responsibility into the audience’s hands. There was a blurring of performance and reality, which I suppose there is in any motivational seminar! It felt as if anything could happen. I was made really aware of the “rules” I imposed upon myself to stay in my seat. The space seemed able to accommodate a lot of improvisation and misbehaviour. What did you think of the performances?

Ashleigh: I enjoyed all four actors, as they created the perfect characters – slightly clichéd and very much over-the-top – for a motivational talk. Emelia Symington Fedy particularly shone for me, with her contrast of tough chick attitude and her astonishing openness and vulnerability.

Rachel: I thought they all did a fantastic job. Not only did they strike this perfect comedic balance between absurd and real in the first section, but they were incredibly accessible in the final section. I think one of my favourite moments was Katy Harris-McLeod’s interpretive dance.

Ashleigh: My favourite moment of Assembly was when the four actors took turns saying what they hate about each other, and then what they love. Fit in amongst the parodies and fragmented stories, their words had a touching honesty that made the segment both funny and poignant. Real feelings and desires seemed to be revealed.

Rachel: Yes, the writing had the capacity to be both absurd and moving. Assembly was developed in four stages over the last three years. Under the stellar direction of Paul Ternes, I believe that the text was collectively developed by the performers themselves. There were only a couple moments that didn’t work for me. When our version of Tony Robbins, Andrew Laurenson, first says, “this is bullshit,” I didn’t really buy the switch. I think that was a hard corner to turn. And then there was the musical number, which didn’t have as much punch as it probably needed. But these are very minor glitches in an otherwise compelling and imaginative journey. Everyone should go see this. It rocked my socks off.

Assembly, Granville Island Hotel, Conference Room; Produced by Radix Theatre Society; Performers: Katy Harris-McLeod, Andrew Laurenson, Billy Marchesnski and Emilia Symington Fedy; Direction: Paul Ternes; Scenography & Graphic Design: Andreas Kahre; Sound Design: Stefan Smulovitz; Video Design: Sean Lang; Costume Design: Robyn Volk; Lighting Design: Itai Erdal. For more information assemble yourself here, you’ll be glad you did.

Maryse Zeidler: who tries to be hip, but in the process just tries too hard and comes across as a flake Rachel Scott: who once was hip, but then moved to Vancouver and has had to start from scratch

Who took in 13 Most Beautiful… Songs for Andy Warhol’s Screen Tests, [...]]]> A Plank Panel

Hanging with the hipster are:

Maryse Zeidler: who tries to be hip, but in the process just tries too hard and comes across as a flake
Rachel Scott: who once was hip, but then moved to Vancouver and has had to start from scratch

Who took in 13 Most Beautiful… Songs for Andy Warhol’s Screen Tests, part of the ongoing PuSh Festival

Maryse: I finally got one! I finally got to see one of those PuSh hidden gems. OK, so maybe attending a show along with 1000 other people doesn’t make it that hidden, but it certainly was precious.

Here’s the background: while he wasn’t busy rearranging soup cans, Andy Warhol filmed over 300 “screen tests”- four minute shots of gorgeous, aloof men and women. The shots are unedited and starkly lit.

The more specific inspiration for 13 Most Beautiful… Songs for Andy Warhol’s Screen Tests came from a conceptual sub-series Warhol went on to present called Thirteen Most Beautiful Women and Thirteen Most Beautiful Boys. That comes out at 13 × 4 minutes = 52 minutes, or roughly the length of your average album, and the perfect length of time for this type of show. The duo known as Dean and Britta (formerly of Luna) come in as an obvious match for the project. Their sardonic, wistful music is inspired by the Velvet Underground, who would occasionally perform live during Warhol installations back in the day.

The result? A dreamy, ironic and iconic show that attracted hipsters like nerds to a Star Trek convention. I don’t think the Vogue has seen that many pairs of horn-rimmed glasses in eons, especially since it’s been closed and under new ownership since January 2006. I don’t know how the PuSh Festival managed to get a show in there, but man, oh man… what a perfect venue. Watching Andy Warhol screen tests to the sound of space-age alt pop in a closed down art deco theatre isn’t something this Vancouverite gets to indulge in very often, and it certainly made me feel as though I was part of something special. Hence the hidden gem effect, I suppose.

*Rachel: * I have to admit that I did feel uber-hip. And, unlike you, I wasn’t familiar with Dean and Britta. There was something so fantastically appropriate about their music. The “dream pop sensibility” of their music perfectly bridged the gap between the 60’s and today. The curators of the Andy Warhol Museum wrote that they wanted to “illuminate the unwavering relevancy of an artist” and I think that the music really did re-contextualize these pieces. I felt as if the screen tests were immediately accessible, and the music was a huge part of that.

Maryse: Each of the screen tests had its own unique personality, but the common denominator was undoubtedly the beauty and nonchalant nature of all the subjects. These were blond babes with thick, dark eyeliner and full lips; men with sunglasses on, smoking cigarettes and licking their lips.

Furthermore, each Dean and Britta’s music was a ideal match to each screen test. From a wonderful rendition of Bob Dylan’s I’ll Keep It with Mine for Nico, to Eyes in my Smoke) for the darling Ingrid Superstar, and Not a Young Man Anymore for Lou Reed, the music provided a perfect aural accompaniment to these blasé babes.

Rachel: I have to disagree about the nonchalance. Yes, they were “cool” and some were “cooler” than others. But the task of simply being in front of the camera was very revealing. Even the super cool cats like Billy Name and Lou Reed (who both wore sunglasses the whole time) seemed vulnerable. I felt like the less the actors tried to do, the more they revealed about themselves. My least favorite pieces were the ones that actually felt the most performed. Nico and Dennis Hopper both seemed to be acting, and I felt like that actually diminished my connection to their work…or, um, whatever it was they were doing. Did you have a favorite?

Maryse: If I had to pick one, it would be Jane Holzer, the poster girl for 13 Most Beautiful…, who just brushed her teeth for four minutes. I can’t believe I’ve never thought of this routine, hygienic act as the obviously erotic metaphor that it is. That’s four minutes of teeth brushing, folks!

Rachel: Oh, she was just outrageously sexy. And I think it take more concentration than we might give these actors credit for just “being” for four minutes in front of a camera.

However, I think my favorite was Edie Sedgwick. Her vulnerability was breathtaking. Here she is, an over made up starlet who looks like she’s ready for the silver screen. But I felt as if I was looking through this mask of cool to see this scared little girl underneath.

What I also really loved were those moments at the end of the reel when the lighting would change. For the most part, the lighting was stark and the actors were frequently cast in shadow. In some of the pieces, like Susan Bottomly, the actors were almost entirely obscured in darkness. But at the end of the film, the lighting would overexpose for a moment and there would be these other facets of the actor that were suddenly illuminated. It was like catching a glimpse of something unexpected.

Something else that I loved were the little snippets of information that Dean would throw in about the subjects: “She’s no longer with us. She went out for a pack of smokes and never came back.” Hearing about who was still alive and who was not was a startling reminder that these tests were filmed forty years ago and that we were looking back into time at pretty young things in their prime. It was a poignant reminder of the fleeting nature of youth and beauty. And can we talk about those names? “International Velvet.” “Baby Jane Holzer.” “Paul America.” “Ingrid Superstar.” These crazy names are just so resonant of this wild pop era. I’m not that familiar with pop culture, but in watching this show I felt closer to what it must have been like. I had a glimpse into being uber-hip.

13 Most Beautiful… Songs for Andy Warhol’s Screen Tests (New York), Dean and Britta, performed on January 30, at the Vogue Theatre. For more information, check this out, man.

The production is described as “an intimate guided tour” in which a small group of audience participants (in my group, there were four) are taken into the [...]]]> Battery Opera’s production event Lives Were Around Me is an intimate and startling theatrical experience. Although I have little idea of what happened, I was captivated by every moment.

The production is described as “an intimate guided tour” in which a small group of audience participants (in my group, there were four) are taken into the Eastside. David MacIntosh, our host and the Artistic Director of Battery Opera, met us outside the Alibi Room on Alexander Street. Sporting the look of a dapper gentleman with a suit and umbrella, he led us with absent charm to our first rendezvous.

From the moment our walk began, I became almost preternaturally aware of my environment. The architecture, the cold, the desperate characters of the south end of Main Street… all these variables were now part of my theatrical experience. I sloughed off my usual armor of disinterest (which a woman invariably must don when walking in a sketchy neighborhood) and felt safe enough to take a good look around. I saw the Eastside with greater clarity now that it had become part of a performance. A discussion amongst my fellow audience members about rats almost seemed to have been scripted. Where did the theatre begin and the real world end?

Our host left us suddenly on the street with the warning that we “can’t understand everything we hear. It’s not possible.” He assured us someone would meet us shortly.

After a few minutes, our first Guide (Paul Ternes) materialized and the narrative began. As we walked, he talked. The text, from James Kelman’s novel Translated Accounts, was strangely stylized and old-fashioned. Although the story had little to do with where we were, the loneliness and desperation of the text resonated with our bleak urban environment. The narrative, haunting and strange, was surprisingly hard to follow and I was frequently distracted by the drama of the street. The citizens of the Eastside were sometimes unwilling participants in our experience. We weren’t always welcome. As we entered into a dingy watering hole, one drunk female patron shouted out, “why do you people keep coming into our bar?” This was a side of Vancouver I would never have seen if not ushered in by a protective spirit. The lives around us that were so frequently invisible were now on display.

After the bar, went to the Vancouver Policeman’s Museum, which was dark and closed. Our guide unexpectedly opened the door and led us in. Again, there was the illicit thrill of being someplace where I didn’t really belong. As we moved through the darkened rooms, I was captivated by the macabre surroundings and frequently forgot to listen to my guide. I berated myself to pay more attention. But then I realized that the feel of what was happening was the real story – not the linear events that I might piece together out of the script. The congruence of the text, the environment and my own reactions were creating the theatrical event. The boundary between observation and participation was rubbed out.

Battery Opera “offers a view of the contemporary body as a site of intersecting and displaced cultures and histories – a body that breathes, speaks, sings, thinks and dances.” What made this adventure so compelling was that it was my body that acted as the point of intersection. My body was the landscape upon which the East Side and Kelman’s narrative could meet. My experience of the piece was uniquely and hauntingly my own.

As our host said, “You can’t understand everything you hear. It’s not possible.” While this is undoubtedly true, there is no loss for this lack of comprehension. A clear understanding of what was being said would have left no room for interpretation. As it was, the narrative and observer met in the space before comprehension, and the experience was far richer for it.

Lives Were Around Me; Conceived, Directed, and Hosted by David McIntosh; performances by Adrienne Wong, Paul Ternes, Aleister Murphy, and the city itself; drink provided; departs hourly from The Alibi Room (157 Alexander Street); every Tuesday evening in January and February, 6pm, 7pm, 8pm, 9pm & 10 pm, continues February 3, 10, 17, 24; for more information be led here:http://batteryopera.com

The Memory of Water is a solid and predictable family drama about three daughters who return home to bury their mother.  As if by clockwork, the skeletons emerge from the closet.  Although the play addresses serious issues, it is billed as a comedy [...]]]> The Memory of Water
Directed by Gerry Mackay
Produced by Metro Theatre
Written by Shelagh Stephenson

The Memory of Water is a solid and predictable family drama about three daughters who return home to bury their mother.  As if by clockwork, the skeletons emerge from the closet.  Although the play addresses serious issues, it is billed as a comedy and the writing is full of opportunities for homespun humor and quirky familial moments.  Reminiscent of “Three Sisters” and “Crimes of the Heart,” each sister is an archetype: the eldest is uptight and responsible, the middle sister is a stony workaholic, and the youngest is delightfully insane.
This rather charming play is made mediocre by the unfortunate choice to overplay the conflict.   The middle sister Mary (Taylor Stutchbury) seems stuck in a tone of constant stridency that makes her difficult to relate to.  And since the characters didn’t seem to like each other very much (until a strangely motivated conciliatory ending), I didn’t care for them much, either.
The relationships between the sisters and their men aren’t very believable.  The marriage of eldest sister Teresa (Heather Cant) and Frank (Simon Best) is outright abusive. Lacking any hint of affection, their jabs at each other are malicious and petty rather than funny.  Mary’s relationship with a married doctor (Lawrence Green) lacks so much chemistry that it is almost disturbing.  The problem may be casting, since Green is a character actor and we need a dashing leading man to justify Mary’s attraction.  The breakdown moments, where each sister comes home to the fact that her mother is dead, lack the depth to be cathartic.
Despite these faults, Cant and Karry Ransom (youngest sister Catherine) have some lovely authentic moments of connection and Ransom in particular revives the flagging humor in the play.   Really, the root of the problem is Stutchbury’s flinty character, who refuses to exhibit variation or vulnerability.  If she had softened, a whole world of humor and connection may have opened up between the three sisters.
In terms of direction, Gerry MacKay erred on the side of being too stagey.  Everything looked fine, but the actors needed more breathing room to get messy in their living space so that they could really treat it like a home.  Dwayne Campbell’s design gave them a fantastically naturalistic set to work in, but it seemed that they never really felt comfortable in the space.  The play would have been better served if the actors had spent more time investigating the many layers of their relationships and less time on the stage picture.
All in all, The Memory of Water is lovely story that relies on the warmth and believability of its characters to really come alive.   Unfortunately, Metro Theatre’s production only offers glimpses of familial love; the rest is lost in anger.